


Me and Sam (#155 Therapy)

by ladygray99



Series: A Silk Pillow [161]
Category: Numb3rs
Genre: Community: numb3rs100, Drabble, M/M, Psychological Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-12
Updated: 2011-03-12
Packaged: 2017-10-16 21:55:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/169753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladygray99/pseuds/ladygray99
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian is going to have to go over everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Me and Sam (#155 Therapy)

Ian looked at Doctor Bradford dreading what was coming.

They were calling it a dissociative event with partial fugue state. For Ian it had been a night of nightmares, then awakening with once hazy horrors suddenly sharp in his mind. For everyone else it had been two weeks of watching him stare silently into space only accepting the occasional order from Jonah to eat or color. The fridge was now covered in crayon masterpieces, half of them his. Alan told him his ravenous hunger was because he had been subsisting on toddler sized portions of apple slices and fish fingers.

He didn’t remember that of course any more than he remembered the hours of screaming or Charlie fighting with the doctors to take him home.

Ian looked down at the paper in his hands. On it were crayon stick figures of little boys with black hair in front of a house with a blue roof.

“Are you ready Ian?” Bradford asked.

Ian shrugged.

“Ian you’re not setting one foot in the field until I say so and I’m not saying so until we’ve worked through _everything._ ”

“That might take awhile.” Ian whispered.

“Yep. I’m thinking five days a week to start with, three to six months.”

Ian tried his ‘I can kill you’ look.

“I’ve watched you have snack time Ian, that look’s never gonna work again.”

Ian dropped his head. He knew he needed this. All the things he’d shut away for years had been screaming through his head since he’d woken.

“Okay.” Ian said quietly, his voice raw.

“Okay.” Bradford pointed to the childish drawing. “Can you tell me who’s in that picture?”

Ian couldn’t remember drawing it but he knew. He pointed to the smaller of the figures. “That’s me.”

“And the other?”

“That’s my brother, Sam.”


End file.
